Sentimental Reasons
by lilyroxmysox03
Summary: A blur of impeccably beautiful faces, soft hands, diamond earrings, fixing bow ties, scolding playfully,pouting cutely, all cooing,"Nate,". His relationship with Blair, Serena, Katherine, Jenny and Vanessa through the years.


_Sentimental Reasons_

* * *

"_I love you, for sentimental reasons…  
I hope you do believe me, I'll give you my heart…" –Nat King Cole_

All those girls, a blur of impeccably beautiful faces, soft hands, diamond earrings, fixing bow ties, scolding playfully, pouting cutely for the new Martin Margiela flats, all cooing, "Nate," girlishly, their bright eyes roaming across his face, resting on his emerald green orbs. The long unraveling road, full of twists and turns, hardships and the ever so present speed bumps and potholes, ending finally with lip-gloss free, chapped lips, curly raven black hair, bitten nails.

First, let's start at the beginning.

*

.:Blair:.

Prim. Sensual. Sophisticated. Feminine. Coquettish.

He loved twisting her silky, chestnut brown locks around his wrists as she slept contently, her camisole covered chest rising up, then down, silently, extracting Marilyn Monroe's innocent yet incredibly sexy air. There was just something about her that was special, a definite keeper, everyone said so. She made him feel important, in control, her demure nature covering her fierce personality. Maybe that was the problem. He was the laid back, Brooks Brothers khakis wearing guy that loved yachting, and Blair, well, she was Blair. The woman that would smooth every crease in her clothing, making sure her headband was positioned just so, her demands for the sauce not touching her steak when presented to her.

There was a definite power struggle between the golden couple. Nate needed to be needed, and Blair wanted to lead yet be taken care for. Blair was a bit too intelligent for him, if you will. Nate was only capable to follow one scent, if you catch the drift. Yet, she was ever so patient, explaining the difference between Stella McCartney and Paul McCartney, or yesterday's trigonometry homework. And every so often, her eyes would gaze towards his face when he was playing a video game, discovering the hidden beauty mark on his jaw line, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

Nate would reach for her hand, and she would brush his hair away from his eyes, to get a better look. When Nate's lips touched hers, he knew he wanted to be with her forever and ever, his hand pressing on the small of her back, the other caressing her smooth cheek.

He loved her desperately, and she loved him too.

.:Serena:.

Lively. Golden. Carefree. Youthful. Angelic.

Her fingers were long and slim, manicured nails brushing his scalp when she ran her hand through his disheveled head after a rigorous practice of lacrosse. They would link them together, when walking along the Ridgefield Beach in Connecticut, their parents' summer house visible from the shore. He would feel her smooth palm against his rough one, her expression so wide-eyed, naïve, that he just had to hold her against his chest, humming, lulling her to sleep with the flames of the bonfire flickering in front of them. She was so much more alike with him than anyone else. She found nothing wrong in licking the sticky ice cream when it dribbled down your forearm, or the way things just seemed to work out for her, in the end. A bright new day for a bright, new, Serena. So…carefree and childlike, it made Nate feel invincible.

When you're a child, you don't know about anything, much. Wasn't it much easier to live life without any worries, no obligations to fill, spending each summer day after summer day skipping stones and singing along to the radio. Grabbing her from behind, he would whirl Serena around, her long mane of blonde hair flying everywhere, listening to her laugh. The smell of honeysuckled would fill the air. He would plant a short, sweet kiss on her neck, just like summer itself.

Fleeting, only for a second, not serious for long. He must need someone grounded, he knew. But he just couldn't let her go.

He loved her desperately, and she loved him too.

.:Katherine:.

Venturesome. Mature. Confident. Audacious. Sultry.

Sneaking around houses, backing up the car into a deserted parking lot, rolling under the covers, he loved it all. It made him feel so juvenile, tinted with just one mature event. Sex. Mind-blowing sex. He knew every inch of Katherine, even if he closed his eyes. Running his calloused hands up and down her smooth, caramel colored skin made him tingle. Was it a fling? In retrospect, yes, but at the time, he wanted fun after his father's mini Ponzi scheme, the revelation of Blair and Chuck's relationship, the hurried courtship of him and Vanessa. And fun he had, indeed.

Long, romantic kisses, tickling bare feet, eating ice cream out of the carton while waiting for Lord Beaton to come home. He looked into her sea green eyes, swiveling around in their sockets as he entered her. If only a fleeting moment, they did love each other. Sort of like the movie Graduate, except he was way hotter than that Hoffman guy-not to be cocky. Did he believe that this would last? Of course not. But he wish it did. It was easy, no strings attached, except maybe for the money part. A White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, and a male prostitute. Way to keep his dignity intact.

There was just so much passion and heat, where he didn't have to be gentle, or sweet. He could be naughty and be a regular horny, fifteen year old boy, just nearly three years late.

Good times.

.:Jenny:.

Naïve. Bubbly. Light. Sweet. Innocent.

They were standing over a subway vent, and the emissions smelled horrible. He was pretty sure all the gross fumes flew right up Jenny's dress.

Sort of like Marilyn Monroe, except less sensual.

He hunched against the October wind, and kissed her again. She smelt like shampoo and stale booze from rubbing against that weird model, Agnes. He smiled too much to be kissing her, and pulled out to gaze into her eyes. They were light gray, and he didn't know what to do next. He had never dated anyone like her. In fact, the only women in his life were Blair and Serena. Oh, and his mom. She was so…young. Chuck would say more obscene adjectives, the politest being fresh. Her light blonde hair wasn't naturally wavy, like Serena's. Her semi-faked innocence wasn't as unbelievable as Blair's, slightly more credible. On the other hand, based on the latest event, little J had matured since the last time he had paid attention to her. In a good way, he did not know. But in the short time he was acquainted with her, he knew she loved pistachio ice cream, fashion, and Dawson's Creek. He also knew she was compassionate, fair and had sort of a, zest for life, the one only young teens had. When his lips touched hers, he did not think of Rufus' anger, Dan's surprise and Vanessa's resentment. Well, he thought about his happiness with her. Most people would throw themselves into emotions, never pausing to screen them. But this, this was different. Newer. Never before experimented with. He didn't want to break her heart. The times they laughed in front of the TV, shared passing glances and brushed arms when cramped into a doorway, the cute giggles they would get out of that awkward situation.

It gave him a sort of satisfaction, being with her, in front of the sicko photographer's brownstone, kissing her sweet thin lips, his hands roaming up and down her back, his touch light and hesitant.

He'll never forget that night.

.:Vanessa:.

" _I love you, and you alone were meant for me…  
please give your loving heart to me, and say we'll never part…"_

There was a slight static to the way the song came out of the radio. It was turned on to the Oldies station, and yes, most was of the Beatles, or Simon and Garfunkel, but on some lucky times, Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole would come up, and Nate would just sit there, listening to the tunes. He glanced out the window, the moon reflecting off the waterfront, the cars and the people hurryingly getting places. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto the comfy sofa, the electric fireplace on, and a glass of cheap Merlot bought from the store around the corner. He closed his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering, and settled down.

Nate used to love to bug her, having friendly debates about baby pacifiers, mayor elections, or the climbing price of coffee. Her nose would scrunch up, the sign that she was annoyed. He would just look at her while she rambled on about unsafe plastic, and seek for the beauty in her face. The shadow from the dip in her lips, her beauty marks on her neck and jaw line. The raven black hair catching the light as they brushed against her well defined shoulders every time she turned her head. Her eyes were the most expressive. Anger, contempt, want, love. The shining in her eyes was what he craved. She was so very different from any of the girls he had been with. At one point, he thought her so far from being feminine, it was atypically beautiful. Never one to hold back. He tried to remember her.

Sharp gasps.

Warm hands.

Nervous glances.

Nuzzled necks.

Soft moans.

Reckless laughter.

"Nate."

His perfectly shaped head whipped around to the cause of the noise. And there she was, luggage in hand.

Slept on hair, a crusted, dried up line of drool at the corner of her mouth, chapped lips, bitten nails, and the ever so present "I'm here, what do you want from me," sarcastic glint in her sea green eyes.

"Vanessa."

Nat King Cole played on.

"_I love you, for sentimental reasons, I hope you do believe me…  
I've given you my heart…"_

* * *

**N/A~ **_So, I hope you liked it. I'm a huge Oldies fan, and when I listened to (I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons, I just knew I had to write a story to pair it with. I really wanted that effect where it doesn't really happen in chronological order (except the order the girls are in), with everything spacey and short. Comment or not, I don't really care. Boy, is it easy to lie over the internet, LOLZ._


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